Shuffle Symphony
by Blackbirdox
Summary: A collection of unrelated one-shots based on random songs.
1. Don't Fear The Reaper

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Poets Society. However, I'm willing to trade most everything I have for Charlie. **

**A/N: I stumbled across the fanfiction shuffle challenge on several other authors pages and decided to just modify that idea. I'll keep the songs random and just write a one-shot or drabble that goes along with the lyrics. They'll be all different pairings and ****genres to- hopefully- keep it fresh. ****If you have any suggestions for songs, I'd be happy to take a listen to them. Just let me know! Thanks for reading and if you can spare the time, don't hesitate to review.**

**Song: (Don't Fear) The Reaper- Blue Oyster Cult**

**Pairing: Slight Neil/Todd**

**Rated: T for mentions of suicide**

The metal is surprisingly warm in his hand. It's light and smooth- not at all what he had been expecting. His fingers fit around the curve of the grip perfectly and settle over the trigger like they were just meant to be there.

It's an odd thing to being holding, really, but he's trying to pretend it's not a gun. It's not a weapon. It's not dangerous and it's not going to take his life. He tries to think of it as comforting- an option rather than his last resort. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend it doesn't _feel_ like a gun. He tries to remember the warmth he once felt when he took Neil's hand in his own and he tries to pretend that's what he's doing.

Memories of Neil's smiling face dance beneath his closed lids and he focuses on them rather than his fears. They're silly, his fears, because he knows there's nothing to be afraid of. He knows that he'll suffer very little pain and that death is natural and that nothing should fear it and nothing really does. _Neil_ didn't fear it.

And he's doing this for Neil.

The curtains in front of his open window flutter in the breeze and beneath the soft whistle of the wind, Todd can almost hear his voice.

"Don't be afraid," it whispers.

And he no longer is.

He just feels warm and at home and positive that he's made the right choice, however wrong it may be. He doesn't care if his choice results in absolution or perdition or heaven or hell because he'll be always be happy because he'll always have Neil. No outside force- great or small- will ever be able to tear them apart and that's the way it should be.

One and the same.

Together in eternity.

And that's a comforting last thought.

The noise is deafening, the pain sudden and the surrounding light that envelops him is blinding but it all vanishes in an instant like it never even happened at all.

Neil is there waiting and Todd's once bleak and dull world has become one of brilliance and his once broken heart has finally mended and fused back together.

Todd runs to him and the moment their outstretched hands meet and weave together, he's whole again. There's no longer something missing and there's nothing else he needs or wants. Neil has always been enough and now, now he has him.

Forever.


	2. Lie

**Song: Lie- David Cook**

**Pairing: Charlie/Knox**

**Rated: T for minor language**

He's seen this coming for awhile- he's certainly not stupid. He didn't necessarily want to _believe_ it was happening but he couldn't ignore that it was.

The past few weeks have been a waiting game- a ticking time bomb. A proverbial game of cat and mouse in which the mouse is playing both roles. Knox chased Chris and Charlie chased him and neither side has won. But she's ruined everything.

Knox is distant. His smiles are thin and few and far between. And on the rare occasions that he's actually gotten the nerve to meet Charlie's questioning gaze, his eyes have been blank and dull and stormy- conveying the message he wants to say without him actually having to say anything at all. _Goodbye._

This is the most alone time they've spent together in God only knows how long. Charlie can't even remember the last time things were normal. Or at least close to it. Every encounter is strained. Every smile and every glance is forced. Every empty declaration of love is just that. Empty. There's no feeling; no meaning. It's just ritual. Habit. Done simply because they feel they still have to.

And though Charlie hates it, he's determined to keep it going because it's the one tether they have to each other. He'll be damned if he gives that up now.

"I'm getting tired," Knox whispers into the dark and a momentary ripple of panic grips at Charlie's heart; stilling it for a beat before forcing it to hammer at an accelerated rate.

He licks his suddenly dry lips and nods. "Yeah. It's late."

Knox heaves a sigh as he pulls himself into a sitting position, running a hand through his slightly mussed hair. After a moment of silence, he turns back to Charlie and even in the dimness of the poorly lit room; he can see the _look_ is back in his eyes. "That's not what I meant," he clarifies, his voice taking on a softer tone.

And Charlie knows what he means and he's been waiting for this to happen but he hopes to God it's not going to. He refuses to acknowledge that it is because he's just not going to let it to. He's not going to let Knox sit there and tear his whole fucking world apart. Not like this. "Oh," he replies dumbly, at a loss of anything else to say.

Knox opens his mouth to continue but Charlie quickly sits up and clamps his hand over his mouth. "Don't," he pleads. Having to beg like this is embarrassing. Degrading. But it's his last resort and humiliation seems like a small price to pay in comparison. "Please. Just don't say anything." He doesn't want to hear it. Silence is simpler.

Knox's expression softens and he simply nods like he understands but Charlie knows he doesn't- he never will. He opens his arms and Charlie leans forward to settle into an awkward hug that seems to represent the crossroads they find themselves in. It's neither friendly nor romantic. It just simply _is_.

"Are we okay?"

"I don't know, Charlie."

"Lie."

A beat of silence passes before Knox responds with, "Yeah. We're okay."

And that's all he needs to hear.

It's only a temporary fix but it's good enough for now. This _will_ end but not today. He's only dragging out the inevitable but he doesn't mind. The relationship is nothing but an illusion but that doesn't matter because nothing has changed. Not yet.

The lie is a promise of at least one more day and that _does_ matter.


	3. Revelry

**Song: Revelry- Kings of Leon**

**Pairing: Charlie/Neil**

**Rated: T for minor language and slightly mature subject matter**

Charlie loved Neil. He had never been the type of person who formed solid and true emotional bonds but Christ, he had loved Neil.

He was his best friend, his lover, his other half, his everything. It had always been Neil. _Always_. From the time that they'd met, every single beat of his heart had been for Neil. It was a rhythm so ingrained, he couldn't escape it. He couldn't stop it or change it or let it beat for someone else. It just continued right along like nothing had changed. _Ne-il. Ne-il. _

Neil had been the only good thing he'd ever had in his life and now he was gone. Every jagged pulse of a heartbeat was just one more constant reminder and each one just ached and taunted him and made it impossible to think of anything else.

He wonders if things would be different if he had been different. He wonders if it would have been enough to save him.

He knew he'd never been good enough. He'd never been what Neil had deserved or should have had. Every moment he had spent with Neil had been precious and perfect but he had never escaped the desire for something more.

His demons had trumped all.

He never wanted to fall in love. He wanted to be young and free and careless. He pushed Neil aside- jerked him around and toyed with him like some kind of puppet on a string while he quenched his lust for debauchery. Neil never said a word, never once batted an eye. He waited and was patient and the thought of that alone causes Charlie's stomach to roll with disgust.

His demons are all he has.

It's raining; pelting his flushed face with stinging drops that wash away the tears Charlie doesn't bother to hold back anymore. The wind is sharp but Charlie doesn't notice. The few rays of moonlight streaming in through the forestry are pale and dull and though they make it hard to see, Charlie doesn't care because he doesn't want to see. The woods haven't changed but they're incomplete and they're filled with memories that he can't even bear to think of.

Charlie pushes his way through the brush and the wayward branches, stumbling and tripping as he runs on like a stream seeking the end of its path. He's tired and he doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want to have to struggle to stay numb and fight back the nightmares that lurk in the shadows of his mind.

He can drink and smoke and eventually, he doesn't hurt. He tries not to be sober- doesn't want to be sober. He doesn't want to come down and face his loss. He just can't do that anymore.

He can still hear Neil's voice calling for him and he can still see his smiling face and a scream of frustration and pain tears its way from Charlie's throat when the memories flood his mind. He can't fucking do this anymore.

He sinks down onto his knees in front of the mouth of the cave where they spent so much time and he digs his hands into the muddy earth, squeezing it between his fingers as he sobs- rejecting yet trying to hold onto the memories. The one thing he has left.

Charlie closes his eyes and draws in a shuddering breath, waiting for that peaceful click in his brain that'll come when the alcohol begins to dull his senses and blanket his thoughts.

The guilt tends to fade first and the sense of loss will follow. He won't feel much later on but feeling nothing is better than actually feeling something. The tears will taper off and he'll be able to go on somewhat normally, if only for a little while.

Regaining composure, he slowly stands and lets the dirt slip from between his fingers in the same way he's let everything else go. Like he does every night, he runs his hand across the rock and manages to crack a wry smile, letting the three words he could never say tumble past his lips.

"I love you."


	4. PS I Love You

**A/N: This is written for and dedicated to the lovely and fantastic CorkyConlon who not only shares my overwhelming obsession with Charlie (and makes me feel sane about it) but my love for the Beatles as well. I hope this turns out to be everything you were hoping for. :)**

**Song: P.S. I Love You- The Beatles**

**Pairing: Charlie/Cam**

**Rating: K**

In all his years at Welton, Charlie had never fully appreciated the significance of letters. The occasional few he'd receive from family and friends back home were crammed into a desk drawer- read once and then tucked away to maybe be responded to one day- the mundane scribbling holding very little value to him. They're long and formal and impersonal, written simply out of obligation rather than a desire to stay in touch.

And then there's the box tucked safely away under his bed- hidden away from the prying eyes of friends and nosy roommates. The box that holds his heart.

These mean more to him than anything. These are important. These are what get him through the year.

There has to be over a hundred by now- one for every day he's been away from home. No letter ever goes unanswered and no letter is ever the same. They lack the uniformity of the others- some half a page and some four and a half in length. Some are written in a hurry, scribbled out on pages torn from notebooks and others are crisp and clean or written out on a page of pink stationary. They're all different but he treasures them all the same for the simple sentence scrawled in delicate hand on each one.

_P.S. I love you_.

He's never really understood why she doesn't just include it in the body of the letter itself but it's one of Cam's silly little quirks that he loves the most. He signs his own in an identical fashion- trying to convey all his feelings to the very best of his ability.

He misses her terribly and though the letters are never really enough, they suffice. They don't compare to seeing her smile and hearing her laugh and the feeling he gets when he gathers her into his arms and kisses her senseless. Charlie misses the way "I love you" sounds on her tongue and the way her eyes will sparkle when she says it but seeing it written out still makes his heart stutter and pound and skip a beat.

Cam knows him better than anyone and he can't imagine his life without her. The semesters at Welton are hard enough as it is but when he crosses each day off his calendar, seemingly just counting down the days to summer, he smiles when he realizes he's one day closer to being with her again.

He's not just simply going home. He's going home to _her_.

He hurries right to his dorm after classes, tossing his books haphazardly on his bed in his rush to make it to his desk. Charlie tugs a blank sheet of paper out from a drawer and uncaps his pen with his teeth, beginning to scribble furiously.

The words flow right out of him without him even having to think. He tells her about his day and his classes and his friends- putting particular emphasis on Knox's silly endeavors, knowing that'll make her smile. He reminds her that he'll be coming home soon, circling and underling the date so he's sure she won't miss it.

Charlie fills three pages easily before proceeding to fill up another half of one telling her he loves her and that he always will and that he doesn't want her to forget that.

Cameron enters as he finishes, casting a look of disdain in his direction. "Writing your mother again, Dalton?" he sneers.

Charlie shakes his head without looking up and rebuts with, "No, Dick. I'm writing to yours." He signs his name and folds the paper up, shoving it into an envelope before shooting a wink in Cameron's direction.

He writes Cam's initials and address on the front before placing the envelope safely in his shirt pocket. Charlie stands and slings his coat over his shoulder, leaving a bewildered Cameron in his wake as he hurries off to mail the letter.

Camille hurries out to meet the mailman, flashing him a brilliant smile when he hands over what he knows she's looking for. The envelope is slightly bent and creased down the middle but the messy handwriting across the front is unmistakable.

She runs back inside and drops the rest of the mail on the kitchen table before hurrying up the stairs, slamming her door behind her as she flops down onto the bed. She eagerly tears into the envelope and pulls out the letter, her smile only widening it as she unfolds the battered pieces of paper.

Cam reads it once, then twice, gently tracing the pad of her thumb across the sentence she always waits to see.

_P.S. I love you. _


	5. The Scientist

**Song: The Scientist- Coldplay**

**Pairing: Neil/Todd**

**Rated: T **

Todd is tired. He's run down and worn out and the thought of having to offer yet another apology just makes him sick to his stomach.

He's not quite sure what happened or when things got bad. He can still remember the way things used to be and how happy they once were. There were no fights or strained or awkward conversations. They were just normal. They were Neil and Todd and better together then they were apart.

Todd saw Neil as perfect- the missing piece to his puzzle. He brought out the best in him and helped him become a better person; the type of person he'd always wanted to be. He confided in Neil and relied on Neil and loved Neil for everything he was and everything he had done. He'd taken the broken pieces of Todd and with every smile and every laugh and every happy memory they'd forged, he'd stitched them back together.

Todd is whole because of Neil. And Todd is empty because of Neil. Neil is the only one who can build him up and then completely break him down. He confuses him and twists him inside and out but Todd loves him through the good times and the bad.

He'd known going into this it wasn't going to be easy but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that it would be so hard.

He can still hear the echoes of Neil's voice running through his head, telling him that he loved him. The sound haunts him everyday and try as he might, he can't seem to get away from it. When Todd is sure Neil means it, it's the single most beautiful thing he's ever heard but when Todd doesn't think he means it, it sucks the wind right out of him.

Todd hates this endless roundabout of running in endless circles and he's at a total loss of how to get out of it. He longs for the days when things were easy and made sense and he wants nothing more than to get back to them but sometimes, he wonders if they can.

They're different people now- each progressing in different ways. Todd tries to embrace their differences and tries to make them work because that's what his heart is saying to do. He supposes everyone goes through this once passion has cooled and the thrill of something new has faded and they're forced to grow and adapt together. Todd wants them to be one of those couples who can make it through.

They can't part.

They can't give up.

Todd _can't_ give up because Todd _needs_ him. He needs him more than anything.

The sun is setting and darkness is starting to creep in. Todd finds Neil in the courtyard, bathed in the warm embrace of the fading light. He's not wearing his trademark grin and he's lacking the peacefulness that comes over him when they lay entwined beneath the sheets- lips locked and fingers exploring- but Todd is certain he's never seemed more beautiful.

He takes a seat beside him and enveloped in comfortable silence, their hands come together and their fingers interlace without second thought. Their gazes meet and neither one of them have to voice their apology. It's just there, plain as day.

The tension surrounding Todd immediately shatters and he feels like he can be at peace again. This has just been one more trial, one more bump in the road. Nothing that they can't overcome.

Todd looks back out at the sunset- the sliver of yellow light peaking out from behind a curtain of darkness- and an involuntary smile tugs up the corner of his mouth.

They're that sliver- always fighting to remain lit up and glowing bright. Eventually, that curtain will fall, as it always does, but it gives Todd comfort to know things aren't entirely hopeless. The light always comes back, triumphing over dark to rule the sky once more and he knows that they can too.

Fights and obstacles and changing futures prevent a challenge and can have their time to power over them but they can make their light shine brighter than ever. And it will.

Its darkest just before the dawn and the dawn is coming. Todd has faith in it.


	6. Thin Layer

**Song: Thin Layer- The Honorary Title**

**Pairing: Charlie/Knox**

**Rating: M for sex**

Charlie can barely remember what his original intention had been but it hadn't been this. Things weren't supposed to end up this way.

He doesn't know how they got here and he doesn't know why. After years of friendship and drunken encounters, he doesn't understand what's changed but he also doesn't care. He can't breathe or think or focus on anything but the scent of sweat and stale alcohol and the silky strands of hair tangled tightly in between his fingers.

This is wrong and he _knows_ that it's wrong but every fiber of his being is screaming that it's right. He can't see past the haze of raw, drunken lust surrounding him and he just doesn't _want_ to. The last shred of his common sense and honest intentions vanished with the last shred of his clothing, tossed carelessly in the corner of the room.

The faulty lighting flickers overhead as Charlie tugs at Knox and pulls him closer, knocking him backwards against the bed. He grinds their hips together; reveling in the low groan that escapes from between Knox's parted lips.

The music from downstairs can still be heard and the muted melody and thumping base provide the only noise besides creaking springs and strained breathing. Charlie nips and bites at the soft skin of Knox's neck as he positions himself over him, leaving behind a subtle trail of burgeoning bruises. Knox gasps and swears and digs his nails into Charlie's back and something inside of Charlie just snaps.

He no longer cares that Knox has been his best friend since they were kids and that this isn't something you do with a best friend. He doesn't care that they're just on someone's guest bed or about the crowd of partygoers downstairs and he doesn't stop to consider that anyone could walk in to find them together. He doesn't care that he and Knox had been fighting only moments before and that this may only be a result of pent up sexual frustration caused by Charlie tugging a drunken Knox away from a pretty brunette wearing a barely there, skimp of a dress and a burly looking boyfriend on her arm.

He's supposed to be lecturing Knox over his stupidity- looking out for his friend rather than trailing his hand down to wrap around the base of his straining erection- and the arms linked tightly around his neck are supposed to be dainty and silky smooth and belong to the girl he'd promised a dance to earlier.

Charlie's mind is awhirl with thoughts and feelings and memories but when the boy beneath him shudders and thrusts his hips up in response to his simple touch, a warm tingle of pleasure shoots down his spine and he can't imagine anything better than this. Nothing else matters because this is exactly what he wants.

He fumbles around the gathers and folds in the sheets to find the foil package he'd tossed aside earlier and he then proceeds to struggle with the flimsy piece of rubber inside, his hands trembling in a mix of nerves and excitement. Knox's are surprisingly steady as they close over his, aiding in the delicate task. Their eyes meet and through the haze of intoxication, there's a moment of clarity in which desires are silently confirmed and doubts are erased.

Charlie leans down and brushes his lips across Knox's, panting into his open mouth as he struggles to catch his breath. "Ready?" he asks, his voice coming out hoarse and thick with lust. He quietly clears his throat as he waits for a response.

Knox hesitates for a moment before he nods, kisses him again and manages to flip over onto his stomach.

Charlie presses kisses from his hair line and down along the planes of his back, nuzzling the soft skin with his nose. When Knox begins to impatiently shift and squirm, Charlie pulls back and closes his eyes as he takes a moment to process the consequences of what he's about to do.

He exhales sharply and trying to be as careful and as gentle as he can possibly be, he angles his hips and pushes forward, entering Knox in one fluid motion. Two loud gasps- one of pleasure and one of pain- shatter the silence and Charlie shoots one hand out to grab a hold of the headboard to keep himself upright as a wave of warmth floods his system. He wraps his other arm around Knox's waist to hold him steady and leans down to lavish a series of light kisses to the small patch of skin between his shoulder and his neck.

He chokes out an apology and Knox merely nods, drawing in a slow and steady breath to will himself to relax.

Charlie waits as long as he can before his instincts take over and begins to thrust, letting a low groan slip as his hooded eyes fall closed completely.

His senses are heightened and even through the layer of rubber that acts as the only barrier between the two of them, he can feel everything. The tickle of Knox's hair against his neck and the clenching of his muscles. The fabric of the sheets tightening under the strain of his grasp, the small droplets of both blood and sweat between them and the subtle, awkward motions of Knox's hips as he begins to move in time with Charlie's thrusts.

They fall into a rhythm that's sloppy and unsynchronized but it's getting the job done and they're both too far gone to really care. Charlie wraps his hand around Knox's cock once more and begins to stroke him in time with his thrusts, bringing him to his climax in a matter of just a few minutes. He comes with a loud shout of Charlie's name, tossing his head back against his shoulder.

Charlie shudders violently as his own release is triggered and he groans loudly, drawing his bottom lip in between his teeth. His nails dig in to Knox's skin and his head falls forward, nestling into the crook of his neck. He slowly releases his grip on the headboard, allowing them to tumble back down onto the mattress.

When Knox begins to squirm again, Charlie pulls out and rolls off of him, staring blankly up at the ceiling as he works to regulate his breathing. Knox is silent beside him for awhile before he rolls onto his side, the bedsprings creaking beneath his weight. Charlie turns his head to look at him and a momentary grip of panic seizes him before he takes note of the tender look in the other boy's eye.

He finds no traces of shame or regret and he's so relieved that the only thing he can do is smile. Knox leans in and brushes their lips together and the feeling is surprisingly overwhelming for such a simple gesture. For Charlie, this wasn't just some random or meaningless hookup or alcohol fueled fuck. It was real and it _did_ mean something and he can only hope that Knox felt what he did.

Neither boy speaks as they proceed to hastily clean themselves off and redress and fix the rumpled bedding, hurrying to return to the party before anyone has time to notice they're missing.

They don't bring it up for a few days, not until they're laying beneath the sheets on Knox's bed, curled up side by side with Knox's head on Charlie's bare chest.

Charlie runs his fingers through his hair and leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "I never meant for that to happen, you know," he confesses honestly and when his cheeks flush a soft red color, Knox knows exactly what he's talking about.

He lifts his head and smirks, pressing a firm kiss to Charlie's lips. "Liar."


	7. Whole Lotta Love

**A/N: I know that Led Zeppelin wasn't even formed until 1968 but I got this idea and I couldn't resist writing it. And seeing as how it's Chameron, it's once again dedicated to CorkyConlon. :) **

**Song: Whole Lotta Love- Led Zeppelin**

**Pairing: Charlie/Cameron**

**Rated: M**

"Must you insist on playing that thing for hours on end?"

Charlie glances up from where he's perched on the bed, unlit cigarette between his lips and lighter in hand, and raises an eyebrow in Cameron's direction. "What?"

Cameron narrows his eyes and slams his textbook down onto his bed, pointing in the direction of Charlie's desk where a record player sits, blaring side one of Led Zeppelin II, just as it has been for the better part of the last twenty four hours. "That," he hisses through clenched teeth.

Whole Lotta Love is playing for what has to be the twentieth time that day and Cameron can't tolerate it anymore. He hasn't been able to study or get any work done, let alone hear himself think, and he's quite certain that if he hears the phrase "every inch of my love one more time" he's going to puke. Or possibly combust from sexual frustration but that's beside the point.

Charlie glances at the record player and then back at Cameron, brows furrowing in confusion. "What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong with it?" Cameron shrieks over the music as he buries his fingers into his hair, contemplating tugging it out by the fistful because painful as that would be, it seems like it'd be a much better alternative to the migraine that's currently assaulting the back of his skull. "It's… it's… vile!" he explodes, waving his hands about wildly. "And this song! It's disgusting!"

Charlie watches his roommate's outburst with a smirk, totally unfazed by it. "What's so disgusting about it?" he asks with the most innocent smile he can muster.

Cameron just glares at him, briefly contemplating how easy it could be to get away with murder. Would anyone really miss Charlie that much if his body somehow ended up stashed somewhere in the woods? "It's _vulgar_," he hisses. "Or have you not actually listened to the words, Dalton?"

Charlie stares at him for a moment and blinks twice before he busts out laughing, causing the very tips of Cameron's ears to turn a vibrant shade of pink with embarrassment. "Well, well. You actually caught on. I'm impressed, Dick. Didn't think you had it in you."

The pink on Cameron's ears turns to red as it spreads down to his cheeks. He might have been a lot of things but he certainly wasn't stupid and just because he wasn't some stud like Charlie didn't mean that he didn't know his way around an innuendo. "It wasn't hard," he replies, pausing to glare at Charlie for the smirk he gives him. "It's completely blatant and the whole thing makes me sick," he sniffs crossing his arms with a huff.

"You need coolin," Charlie recites as he scoots to the edge of his bed. "Baby, I'm not foolin'."

Cameron groans and covers his face with his pillow, trying to add as much pressure as he can in hopes that he might get lucky and somehow manage to smother himself even though he knows that's not really possible. Passing out would even work. Anything to get him out of this.

He can hear the bedsprings of Charlie's bed squeak and then his footsteps on the floor and then suddenly the room is once against silent and Cameron has never been more thankful for anything in his entire life. Just as he's about to lower the pillow, the springs on his own bed squeak and the mattress shifts a little and then oh fuck, Charlie is right next to him, whispering that damn sentence into his ear.

"_I'm gonna give you every inch of my love._"

Cameron shudders a little and surprisingly, it doesn't actually make him want to throw up. He just wants to do very, very naughty things instead. He peers over the top of the pillow and narrows his eyes at Charlie as he fires back with, "You wanna be my backdoor man?"

And though he'd rather die than admit it, the look that Charlie gives him convinces him that maybe, just maybe, the song isn't as bad as he thought.


	8. Every Ship Must Sail Away

**Song: Every Ship Must Sail Away- Blue Merle **

**Pairing: Meeks/Charlie**

**Rated: M for language**

Ink has been smudged across a desk and arms and even a forehead. Papers have been torn. Papers have been crumbled up and tossed aimlessly at the garbage can. Papers have been crumbled up and are just lying around the desk or littering the surface of the floor. There are dents in the fingers of perfectly soft hands from gripping the sides of a pen too tightly.

The paper currently sitting face up on the desk has numerous cross outs and it's creased in several places and it's full of dents in places where the tip of the pen has pressed too hard as it scribbles furiously, trying to find the words it needs to say.

There's just so much that Steven Meeks- always articulate and eloquent- both needs and wants to say and he can't begin to figure out where to start.

He's written kind letters and apologetic letters and angry letters and letters that just contain certain choice words that make him blush as he scrawls them out, angry and slanted and hurried, marring his perfect penmanship.

None of them are right, though. None of them convey the thoughts bouncing around in his head because he doesn't even know what those thoughts mean in the first place.

He just knows that he's tired. Tired and exhausted and worn out and unable to put up with this anymore. Sometimes, he thinks that he wants to and sometimes he thinks that the only reason he has for this long is because he feels like he has to. Like he's obligated to.

There was once a time when he had to have Charlie Dalton in his life to be happy- he needed him like he was addicted to him, like he was some kind of a drug. But he's not happy anymore. There are times when he is, yes, but Charlie causes so much stress and pain and anger that most of the time, it outweighs the happiness. It covers it like an ominous cloud and makes Steven wonder how it was possible that he had ever been happy in the first place.

The wrinkled pieces of paper around him tell their story.

They tell of days a couple has spent together- some happy and some sad. Some filled with snuggling or fucking or just laying in bed and talking, tangled up in each other, and some filled with fighting and shouting and thrown punches and desperate attempts to make up for them.

They tell how happy they once were and how Steven wishes they could have that back- have their gray skies be blue again.

They tell of their numerous fights, the often silly and stupid misunderstandings that led to the fights in the first place, and how fed up Steven is with it all.

They tell of how much Steven loves Charlie and how much he wishes Charlie could give him an answer other than, _love ya too_, because that doesn't mean the same thing and every time he hears it, it's like someone is stabbing a knife into his heart.

They tell of Charlie's inability to settle down and make a decision and how he jerks Steven around like a fish on a hook- one day he wants them to be together and then one day he's dreaming of the girl he wants to meet.

Each issue that each letter brings to the surface makes Steven cringe or clench his jaw or want to cry or to hit something. He's just so confused and torn and God, why can't Charlie just _see_ that?

He says he does and that he gets it and that he's confused too but Steven doesn't think he really does get it.

Because he's been patient and tolerant and supportive and Charlie has just run around doing whatever the fuck he wants, like he's fucking entitled to, and Steven has had it up to _here _and he just doesn't think he can take it anymore.

He's fucking sick and tired of all this uncertainty and he wants to be able to know, know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when he asks Charlie how he feels and if he cares about him- because, fuck, he doesn't even have to love him, just care- he's getting an honest answer. Because if Charlie cares, Steven can't tell.

He doesn't want to just be this thing, this object that occupies a space in Charlie's life. He wants to _mean_ something like Charlie means to him. He just wants to be on the same plane with their relationship and he used to think that they could be, he used to hope and fucking pray for that, but now, now he doubts it.

Because if it hasn't happened by now, he's certain that hell is going to freeze over before it does. It could be zero fucking degrees down there and he'd still be waiting for Charlie to get his shit together.

Sure, Steven is patient. He's just not _that_ patient.

He stares down at the half finished letter in front of him that's filled with _I love you_ and _I'm sorry_ and _can we just talk about this? _and _are we ever going to work this out? _and _fuck you, Charlie, just fuck you_ and then, _I didn't meant that_ and then _actually, I did_ which was subsequently crossed out.

Steven reads it, once, twice, three times, and then shakes his head and tears it off his legal pad. He doesn't bother to even crumble this one; he just shoves it off to the side- too tired to care anymore.

His pen taps his chin in thought and then he just writes the one little word he's been trying to say the whole time. There's no point in dressing it up or explaining it because Charlie's smart and he's certain he'll pick up on what it means.

And yeah, it hurts to see it written down, glaring up at him and taunting him and making him think for a second that he's making a mistake, and he figures it's going to hurt for awhile, this new life without Charlie in it, but he's knows that he's done the right thing. There was nothing else he could do. He's exhausted all his options, played all his cards, and now it's time for his ace in the hole- his last resort.

Steven folds the paper in half and leaves it where he knows Charlie will find it before he slips out of the room.

There's a hole that's torn it's way through his heart and he feels like there's a block of lead in his stomach and it kind of makes him want to throw up and then run back, tear up the note and pretend like nothing is wrong but the weight that's been lifted of his shoulders won't allow him to do that.

He's kicking his habit, his addiction, his dependency, and he's going to start over fresh and he knows that in time, he's going to be happy again. Everything has to come to an end eventually- everyone and everything has to die, every sun has to set, every ship has to sail away- and it's time. It's finally time.

And even though the word flashes in the back of his mind and he sees it against the inside of his lids when he closes his eyes and it hurts, it really fucking hurts, it fills him with an odd sense of hope, too.

He never knew that something as simple as _goodbye_ could have the power to do that.


	9. More Like Her

**Song: More Like Her- Miranda Lambert**

**Pairing: Charlie/Knox, Knox/Chris**

**Rated: T**

Chris is a good girl, Charlie supposes.

She's certainly pretty and she's sweet, kind and loving in the way that all girls are supposed to be. She's loyal and she's supportive, always there to offer aid to anyone who needs her. She's outgoing and funny and she makes everyone around her laugh and smile. She makes people happy. She makes _Knox_ happy.

She makes him happy in the way that Charlie can't.

Charlie doesn't hold a candle to her and he knows it. He knows that he never will. He can try, and he does, but he's never going to be Chris and Knox is never going to love him in the way that he loves her.

Knox assures him that it's different with Chris. He tells him he really does love him and that they really are best friends and sometimes, when Knox is feeling generous, they're more than best friends but that really doesn't matter because Knox says they're different and they _are_. Chris trumps him, he knows, and all the lines that Knox says are there seem to blur more and more everyday.

There used to be this side of Knox that Charlie had always treasured because he assumed it had been just for him. He was Charlie's Knox and when they were together, it was just the two of them. No one else was important because back then, at least for Charlie, no one else existed.

There was no one around to threaten them or change them and their relationship had been _so_ solid- steady and firm like stone.

And then there was Chris. Chris who cracked the stone and wedged her way in between the two of them, shattering all of Charlie's illusions about his relationship with Knox and what they meant to each other.

Charlie's Knox belongs to Chris now and Charlie just feels robbed. Like he's had something personal and private ripped away from him and laid out for the rest of the world to see. Knox just seems so different when he looks at him, so dirtied and so foreign, that Charlie often feels he's just looking at a stranger.

He can't relate to Knox anymore- not when everything is about Chris. Chris said this and Chris did that and no don't say that, only Chris is allowed to call me that and now they're making _plans_ together for God's sake- rash and illogical and utterly stupid plans for a future that they only think they're going to have.

No one should do that- Charlie learned that the hard way. He can still remember sitting and talking with Knox- all crossed legs and crooked, youthful smiles- discussing their own future. He still remembers how they said that they were going to go to college together and live together and always be the best of friends and now thinking about it just makes him sick because he can't believe he had really been that stupid.

He's smart. He knows how the world works and he knows he never should have allowed himself to get swept up in all of Knox's romantic ideals about friendship and love and the concept of forever but he had anyway. He hadn't been able to resist it because Knox made him believe in all of that and Knox had made him want it.

And Charlie still wants it, more than anything, and it just kills him to know he's never going to get it.

Chris is.

And that's just not fair.

Sure, she's beautiful and delicate and gentle but she's no better than Charlie is. Not really. Charlie figures he's a pretty decent person- certainly not perfect, of course- so he doesn't understand why Knox so obviously favors Chris over him.

Just because he has faults and shows them rather than hiding them away doesn't mean she's better. Just because she's forgiving and rather non-confrontational doesn't mean she's better. Just because things are easy for them doesn't mean she's better.

Just because Charlie isn't her doesn't mean she's better. He should be good enough. After all the time he's been with Knox and after all the things they've been through together, Chris should have to be the one struggling and fighting and clawing her way to him. Not Charlie.

Knox should just love him for him and that's what not fair. Charlie shouldn't have to compete with her because he isn't her and he's never going to be.

He's just himself- someone who reluctantly let himself fall in love with someone who would never love him back. Someone who is only ever going to be in love with _her_.

He just wishes he could be different and be what Knox needs and wants. He wishes he could be more like her.


End file.
